


Recollections: Contact

by Stark_Black



Series: Memories [9]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Black/pseuds/Stark_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fifth in a series of past events in the ‘Memories’ universe. This is the story of that fateful night at the dojo...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recollections: Contact

Sanji sat on his window sill with an inch of his very last cigarette burning between his fingers. He was in his room on the top floor of the Baratie, high above the pier. He smoked and watched the gulls hover on gusts of wind before they set down gently on weather-worn rocks. It had been a clear, crisp day, beautiful by Seattle standards, not a cloud in sight. Even now as the sun started to set the air was still fresh from the sea, cold enough to nip at the tip of your nose if you faced the wind for too long, but comfortable enough to not need gloves or a hat. The cook sat draped half in and half out, one leg dangling outside and the other propped on the sill. The window stood wide open and the evening slipped inside slowly as Sanji thought about what he was about to do.

He was probably mad. There was no other explanation for his thoughts. One had to be completely daft to even consider what Sanji was planning—had been planning for several days. Ever since he snuck into the locker room at the gym and witnessed Zoro agonizing over the card Sanji sent him, the cook had not rested and had barely eaten anything. His head and heart had been full of questions, keeping him from sleeping or concentrating on his work. Zeff had finally kicked him out of the kitchen earlier that day shouting “figure it out or find another job!” Sanji had spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening thinking about what he should do and there seemed to be only one answer:

Confront Zoro.

If he didn’t, Sanji knew he would lose his mind for real. He had to do something. Zoro was all he thought about all day and night. The green-haired bastard was infecting every part of his life! 

The troubled cook raised the cigarette to his lips and inhaled the last bit of burning tobacco before he snuffed the butt out on the side of his shoe. He knew that today Zoro was at Ace’s dad’s dojo. The swordsman hadn’t yet taken the job Ace had offered him, but Sanji knew that Zoro still trained there after hours four nights a week. The type of conditioning that the swordsman put his body through was best done when Zoro was alone and the dojo provided all the equipment Zoro required. 

Sanji planned on getting there sometime after ten and slipping in the employee entrance. That way the two of them would be alone to talk through things, but it was also the perfect place if the conversation went sour and they decided to beat the crap out of each other. 

Turning around and sliding from the sill, Sanji pocketed the cigarette butt and slipped on his shoes. He could dispose of the butt and the empty packet in the trash out behind the restaurant. He was going to walk to the dojo; it was a few miles away, but he knew the walk would do him good. 

The air had gone from crisp to stinging cold. Sanji stepped out of the convenience store and made his way down the street. A brand new pack filled his pocket and a fresh cigarette hung between his lips. The breeze bit at his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he walked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and noted that he was an idiot for forgetting his coat. As he neared his destination, a tight feeling started to fill in his gut. It wasn’t fear or anger or anything else so easy to name, but it bogged the cook down considerably. 

“Chill…” Sanji murmured to himself. 

The dojo’s lights were off, but a single lantern burned brightly in the back room. As Sanji stepped through the doors, he knew immediately that Zoro was there. He could hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting the training dummies and Zoro’s voice grunting with every loud impact. The cook could tell Zoro’s form was off just by his rhythm and the growling and cursing between each hit was not from exertion, it was obviously from frustration. 

Standing in the doorway, Sanji slipped his hands into his pockets. His unlit cigarette hung from between his lips. He stood silently watching, waiting for Zoro to see him.

Maybe Zoro felt him, maybe he sensed him or smelled him because in the middle of a series Zoro stopped. He froze, turned around the face him. 

The swordsman breathed hard and his fists clenched and unclenched. He wore nothing but a loose pair of black sweats and white t-shirt. Sweat ran from his temples and down his jaw. His neck and arms glistened in the soft light and as he moved to face Sanji, the cook could see the horrible outline of the scar that marred Zoro’s entire torso through the thin, white fabric. 

Seeing that scar rekindled memories in Sanji that made his stomach turn. He remembered that awful night when he held Zoro’s body together in the parking lot. He remembered the feeling of Zoro’s blood between his fingertips. He remembered the terror he felt as the paramedics loaded the swordsman onto the gurney and pushed him into the back of the ambulance. 

Sanji felt a burning in his chest. He had come to talk to Zoro, try and apologize for the awful things he had said. He had wanted to mend their nonexistent relationship to where they could at least be in the same room together again. But now, seeing that scar, everything came flooding back: the way Zoro was polite to everyone else but him, how Zoro smiled at Ace or Luffy for nothing, how fun he was with Usopp, how polite he was to strangers, how sweet he always was to children… 

No matter what Sanji did, it wasn’t good enough. No, he wasn’t worth a smile or even a nod or a polite “hello”. Zoro talked so gently to Chopper but only had a snarl or a biting insult to throw Sanji’s way. Sanji could cook the swordsman food, the best food in the whole goddamn city. Sanji could spar with the stupid swordsman like no one else could or would even try. Sanji could save Zoro’s _fucking life_ , but he would get nothing for it, not even a thank you. 

The cook felt his anger swelling inside of him as the two men stared each other down. Sanji kept as calm an exterior as he could, but beneath the surface everything was simmering. 

And now… now the look Zoro was giving him was confusing and pissing Sanji off even more. The swordsman’s eyes were wide and he looked ready to move, but nothing in his stance was aggressive. He seemed stuck somewhere between shocked and relieved and Sanji hated him for it. Why did Zoro look like that? Why was the fucking swordsman looking at him like Sanji was the best thing he had ever seen? It wasn’t fucking fair! Why could he never keep his cool when Zoro was around? Why did he always have to feel like Zoro was in control of his emotions while Sanji’s went off the reservation? Why in God’s name did he have feelings for this idiot!? Why did he want to be accepted so much!? _Why the hell did he want Zoro so badly!?_

Zoro straightened. He opened his mouth to say something, but then just closed it again like he always did. 

Sanji finally felt himself snap. He was going to kill Zoro. He was going to kill him and chop him up into little pieces and bury him in Usopp’s garden. He’d never be able the look Chopper in the eye again, but it would be totally worth it. 

Sanji pulled off his jacket, tossing it over a railing. He jerked his tie from around his neck, kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his socks. 

“Get a sword,” Sanji growled.

Zoro looked at him lamely. When he spoke his voice sounded dry. 

“What?”

Sanji ground his teeth as his patience was starting to wear thin.

“I said you better get a fucking sword, asshole. I’m gonna kill you.”

Zoro stayed frozen for a moment, but then he blinked and moved to where his swords were propped against the wall. As Sanji watched, the swordsman unzipped the case and pulled his white sword Wado from the hidden compartment. For a moment, just one moment, Sanji felt as if time had stopped. The fact that Zoro felt Sanji was worth fighting using his most prized possession made the cook’s heart flutter. Sanji remembered back to the conversation he had overheard in the locker room. Zoro had said that he, Sanji, was a better martial artist than him—better than all their friends and teammates. This would all be so much easier, so much less confusing if the bastard hadn’t said that…

The swordsman turned to Sanji then and slid Wado free. The ring of steel in the open space brought Sanji back to where he was. The cook’s anger returned as he remembered why he was here. It didn’t matter what Zoro thought of him, not in this moment. All that did matter was that Sanji wanted Zoro to understand him. He wanted Zoro to see that there was more to Sanji then a selfish cook who baited him every day for nothing. Zoro didn’t have to like him, but Sanji needed Zoro to see that Sanji was a person worth knowing and the only way Sanji could think of for that to work, was to fight him.

Hopefully, Sanji thought, if they did this for real, not sparring, not training, but full-on no limits fighting, Zoro would see him. For the first time maybe Zoro would just _see_ him… 

Zoro’s eyes stayed trained on Sanji as he dropped the empty saya by the sword case and moved to the center of the sparring mats. There were no words to be said. Sanji had challenged him and Zoro had accepted.

Sanji moved. He bolted from where he stood, his feet pounding the mats hard as he wound up. His hands hit the floor and his feet flew over his head. As his right heel came down in a vicious downward kick, Sanji heard Zoro choke out “ _Shit!_ ” before he moved and brought Wado up to block.

Zoro was fast, but tonight Sanji was faster. It was all the swordsman could do to keep from getting his ribs from getting kicked into his spine. Sanji’s movements were fueled by rage and an acute sense of betrayal. Not that Zoro had betrayed him, but he had never given Sanji a chance in the first place. In this situation that was almost worse.

“Stupid, shitty Marimo,” Sanji hissed. “I can’t stand you!”

His heel connected with Zoro’s side and the swordsman grunted in pain. To his credit however, Zoro stood his ground. He held Wado in a sure grip and readied himself for the next onslaught of attacks Sanji sent his way. 

Sanji came at him with everything. He twisted, bent, kicked, twisted again, flipped, and floor-swept. He was getting so frustrated that Zoro was only defending that he almost screamed. Did the bastard think he could just block forever? Did he think that he could just cover until Sanji wore out? Fuck that! Fuck him! 

“Fuck you, Marimo!”

It wasn’t planned, it was more instinctual. Sanji’s training had taught him to adapt to the situation. His attacks weren’t working and so he changed his tactic. He feigned with a knee, causing Zoro to lower his guard to block his torso. When those arms moved and Zoro’s hands were at belt-level, Sanji did something he had never done before.

He raised his fist and punched Zoro in the face. 

The swordsman fell to the ground looking as shocked at Sanji felt. When had he ever punched someone during a fight? When was the last time he had punched someone period? Second grade?

Zoro sat stunned, rubbing his jaw and watching Sanji with wide eyes. The cook took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. He was still so angry, still so hurt. His feelings of inferiority and loneliness rose up and mixed with his confusion over his feelings for Zoro. Sanji’s heart hurt and he wanted to cry. 

This wasn’t working. 

He wanted to scream. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

Where were all these feelings supposed to go? 

How was he supposed to handle all of this!?

Slowly, Sanji started to pace. What exactly had he planned on saying to Zoro after they had fought? What had been his original plan before his anger and his hurt and clouded his vision? Hadn’t he come here to apologize? Hadn’t he come here to try and mend things? What the hell was he doing?

“Goddamnit, Zoro…” Sanji growled under his breath. “Goddamn you! Why do you have to be such an asshole? Why are you nice to everyone but me?”

He glanced at Zoro. The swordsman was watching him intently. Why wasn’t he getting back up? Why didn’t he continue the fight?

_Why didn’t he look angry?_

“Fuck…” Sanji murmured again. “Fuck you… Why did I have to fall for you? Why did I have to get feelings for you— _you_ of all people?” The cook started to pace again as he mumbled. “I fucking hate you… I fucking hate everything about you!”

When he glanced at Zoro again, he almost stopped. The swordsman had that same look on his face as he had in the locker room. That same sad and lonely look in his eyes as had been there when Zoro thought he was alone and sat holding Sanji’s get well card. 

That look tore at Sanji’s heart.

Where was this all going? What the hell was he supposed to do? How was he going to fix this? Could he fix it? Should he just walk away? Why couldn’t Sanji be like everyone else to Zoro? Why wouldn’t Zoro talk to him? Why wouldn’t Zoro smile at him?

When Sanji spoke again his voice trembled and he prayed that Zoro thought it was from anger. “Fucking hate you, you son of a bitch… Fuck you and your damn face, and your damn smile…”

The cook stopped then. He stared at Zoro and pulled the broken cigarette from between his lips. He hadn’t lit up, the stick had just come apart during the fight. He looked into Zoro’s dark eyes and felt something inside of him fall apart.

_Why is he looking at me like that?_

Sanji knew why he was breaking down, he was only just now ready to admit it. Zoro’s face reflected what Sanji was feeling, what he was thinking. When he looked into Zoro’s eyes, even when they had been trying to rip each other’s throats out, Sanji could see himself staring back. 

He could feel his connection to Zoro as intensely as if they were sharing the same skin.

What Sanji did then, was possibly the most insane and stupid thing the cook had ever done in his life. His body seemed to move on its own. The cook actually felt he could see himself doing it and couldn’t stop it. He slowly moved to where Zoro was sitting, staring at Sanji with those lonely, adoring eyes. When the cook placed a foot on either side of the swordsman’s legs and lowered himself to straddle Zoro’s hips, time seemed to freeze once again.

Zoro’s eyes widened and Sanji could feel his breath catch. The cook lifted his hands and grabbed the swordsman’s collar. He brought his face close and breathed over Zoro’s sweaty skin.

He wanted Zoro. He wanted the stupid swordsman so much he felt he was going to die.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?”

Sanji was sure Zoro was going to hit him, but he was wrong. So _very_ wrong. Zoro’s hands moved to his hips, gripping the bone and muscle in his unbelievably strong hold. In one simple move he had anchored Sanji to him, pulling the most sensitive parts of their bodies together. Sanji felt that want, that powerful need that was already inside him swell so profoundly he almost lost his breath. The feeling washed over him and he leaned in without thinking. He kissed Zoro’s lips, expecting the worst, planning on rejection. The unbearable moment of humiliation… But that moment didn’t happen. Zoro didn’t pull away. 

Sanji hesitated for an instant. For one fraction of a second the cook’s body froze in shock. He felt Zoro do the same. For one moment, one small space of eternity, there was just a touch, just a pair of lips on a pair of lips. Reality narrowed down to this one simple sensation…

…and then Zoro’s lips parted. 

Sanji didn’t hesitate this time. He breathed in, slanted his lips over Zoro’s and slid his tongue into the heat and softness of Zoro’s mouth. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it, _he couldn’t believe it!_ Zoro was kissing him! He was kissing back! 

There was no more holding back. Sanji threw himself into the kiss. His body trembled as he slid his hands up to Zoro’s jaw, his fingertips splayed over the swordsman’s smooth cheeks. A low rumble from somewhere deep in Zoro’s throat sent the most incredible shivers down the cook’s spine and he arched in Zoro’s hold. Zoro pressed into Sanji’s mouth, his tongue sliding over the cook’s. He tasted _so good_ , like spices and mint and sweat and fire and power. How could Sanji ever be satisfied with anything else? How was anything else ever going to compare to this? 

Sanji moved his hands into Zoro’s coarse hair and pulled. Zoro groaned again and Sanji reacted instinctively. He rolled his hips, sliding his erection against Zoro’s hardness. The swordsman shuddered and Sanji used his powerful thighs to push the larger man onto his back. He kissed the swordsman’s chin, his throat, and was shocked almost immobile when Zoro tilted his head back and submitted to the soft attention.

“Woa, wait…” Zoro gasped, “Hey, stupid cook, what is this?”

Oh God, his voice… Zoro’s voice was a hot touch that got past his skin, burned him on the inside. Sanji couldn’t stop now, there was no turning back.

“God damnit, fucking Marimo,” Sanji growled. “Stop talking to me and take my clothes off.”

Zoro seemed confused for a moment but then moved his hands to Sanji’s shirt. Buttons popped and flew across the floor as Zoro made quick work of the silky fabric. Sanji didn’t even care; the feel of Zoro’s hands on his bare chest was so invigorating that nothing else seemed to matter. He pulled at the swordsman’s t-shirt, maneuvering the larger man’s arms above his head, and yanked the damp cotton of Zoro’s sweaty body. When they came together again, chest to chest, skin to skin, Sanji heard Zoro gasp. The sound made his heart swim and his cock throb painfully.

Fingers caressed Sanji’s stomach, slid lower to pull his shirt from his pants. The cook’s movements froze as reality narrowed down once again. Zoro fumbled with Sanji’s belt, opened the button, and slid one sword-calloused hand inside and over his aching length. He felt he couldn’t breathe as Zoro palmed him. He couldn’t believe he was letting a man touch him like this. He couldn’t believe that a man wanted to touch him like this. It was amazing and terrifying and absolutely surreal, but it was _Zoro_ so it was all right. Sanji felt at this moment that anything Zoro wanted to do to him, he would let him. It was incredible.

Just when Sanji felt the sensations couldn’t get any better, his back hit the floor and Zoro _ground down on him_. Sanji cried out. He clawed at the larger man, pulled him closer. He bit into hot skin that was being offered freely and felt a thrill roll through him when he heard Zoro’s growl of approval. The swordsman’s hardness was thick and obvious as it pressed into Sanji’s. The cook dug his heels into the mats and pushed his hips up. The rhythm that Zoro had started faltered for a moment, and the two men had to pause. The feeling of them rolling together was almost too good. The strength, the power of their two bodies moving together was as unbearable as it was exhilarating. Zoro lifted his torso from Sani’s and put all of his weight on his arms. He breathed heavily across Sanji’s skin and kissed the cook on his neck and chest.

“What do you want?” he whispered breathlessly. “What do you want me to do?”

Sanji was beyond the point of rational decision. All he wanted was contact. He wanted more of Zoro’s skin on his and he wanted it now.

“Take them off… Take them off, Zoro.”

He didn’t know if he meant his own pants or Zoro’s, but the swordsman at least understood the urgency in his voice. Sanji lifted his hips when Zoro pulled and then he was naked. He was spread out on the mats, sweaty and hot and shaking, with Zoro kneeling between his legs. It was almost humiliating, but then he looked up into Zoro’s face. 

The swordsman was looking at his body in a way that made Sanji’s heart pound. The unrestrained admiration, the _worship_ Sanji saw in those eyes that were usually so cold or antagonistic gave Sanji the confidence he thought he had lost. He realized that he had the upper hand all along. He wasn’t the only one that had felt this way. Zoro wanted him as much as he wanted Zoro.

Before the swordsman could resist, Sanji wrapped his legs around Zoro’s waist and flipped them. Zoro landed with a muffled “umph!” but he froze wide-eyed as Sanji crawled back on top of him. Taking the advantage, Sanji kissed him again, this time long and slow. He ran his hands over the swordsman’s face, arched his back a little when he felt Zoro’s hands at his waist.

He pulled back after a few long moments and looked Zoro straight in the eyes. Everything inside Sanji trembled as he opened his mouth to speak. “This is how we’re gonna do this,” he breathed and thanked God that his voice didn’t tremble as well. “You can top, but I call the shots. I lead this, you got that?”

Zoro’s breath caught but he managed a nod. 

Sanji slowly straightened and Zoro sat up with him. The cook’s long fingers pulled at the tie of Zoro’s pants. The two kept eye contact as Sanji’s hands slowly slipped inside and ran over Zoro’s weeping erection. Sanji let himself explore for a few seconds, getting the feel of it, the shape, the size. He knew he would be intimately familiar with it in a few moments, but he wanted to acquaint himself with it first.

Zoro’s brown furrowed. His eyes slid shut and his mouth fell open slightly as Sanji stroked him. Sanji liked that look on the swordsman. He had been trying to best the bastard for a year now and if had known it would be this easy, well… 

He tugged hard once, earning him a quit moan. The sound did Sanji in. He worked up as much moisture in his mouth as he could and spit into his palm. It wasn’t enough, he was sure, but at this point he didn’t care anymore. So what if it hurt? He had been hurting much more in the past few weeks than Zoro could ever do to him physically. He could handle it. 

Sanji watched Zoro watching him as he slicked the swordsman’s cock and reposition himself over tanned hips. The cook closed his eyes and guided Zoro’s length into him slowly. The initial sting wasn’t so bad, but when he pushed down and Zoro slipped past that first ring of muscle, Sanji was overwhelmed by the pressure and cried out softly.

“Sh…shit…” he panted.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, but not in the way Sanji had been expecting. He had figured there would be pain, yes, but what the cook felt now was more of an emotional pain, a vulnerability he had not counted on. Where Zoro was sliding into him, there was pressure and a little sting, but in his chest, in his heart he ached. As he slid down onto Zoro fully, Sanji realized he was giving himself to Zoro in a way he had never given himself to anyone in his life. What if Zoro didn’t care? What if all that Zoro wanted was a quick fuck and that was it? Sanji would have made this jump, this flying leap into something so difficult and so painful for nothing. He would have reached out his hand finally for the first time and found nothing and no one to take it.

But then the cook felt those calloused hands on his cheeks and Zoro’s breath on his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sanji almost laughed. “Shut up, I’m fine. I’m just trying to… adjust.” 

Zoro’s thumbs caressed below his eyelids, dragging through tear tracks that Sanji hadn’t noticed were there. “It’s all right, Sanji. You’re strong… It’s all right…” 

Sanji’s lips started to tremble and he felt a sob building up in his chest. It was almost more than he could bear. If Zoro really was reaching out as well, was it all right that he was giving so much of himself? Could he do it?

Sanji opened his eyes to meet heated black pools gazing back at him. Zoro was looking at him again in that way that made Sanji feel he could let the swordsman do anything.

And then Sanji realized something.

“You… you called me Sanji…” Tears started to run freely down his cheeks as he spoke. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use my name…” 

Remarkably, Zoro’s cheeks darkened. The swordsman pressed himself closer, removing his hands from Sanji’s cheeks and sliding them around the cook’s waist.

“Yeah… I’m gonna call you that from now on… Is that okay?” 

Sanji nodded. The ache was less. The pain from where Zoro invaded him had dulled. He felt lighter, freer. He kissed Zoro softly once and wrapped his arms around the swordsman’s neck. Trying an experimental move, Sanji used his thighs to push himself up, pulling himself up Zoro’s cock. The swordsman gasped. When Sanji relaxed and slid back down, Zoro’s head actually fell forward onto Sanji’s collar. He gasped, squeezing Sanji tightly.

Sanji’s confidence was restored.

Lifting himself again, and sliding back down, Sanji started up a slow rhythm. A slow, powerful grind that had Zoro moaning into his neck and clutching at the cook’s muscular thighs. The realization that he had Zoro wrapped around his finger almost overshadowed the fact that Zoro’s erection sliding in and out of him felt amazingly good. Not until Zoro put one hand behind him on the mat and used it as leverage to thrust up did Sanji realize that he was hard again. 

“Oh God…” Sanji whispered.

It felt so good. So amazingly good. There was still pain, still pressure, but it only seemed to add to the sensation. As their pace picked up, Sanji braced himself on Zoro’s shoulders. He leaned back and rolled his hips against Zoro’s thrusts. The loud slap of flesh against flesh rang out through the dojo, punctuated only by a soft “ _ah_ ” from Sanji or a low growl or grunt from Zoro. 

Sanji felt himself getting closer. His stomach clenched, his loins tightened. His erection begged to be touched, stroked. He reached down and pumped himself in quick, hard jerks as Zoro pounded into him. The swordsman opened his eyes, looked down at Sanji stroking himself and moaned.

“Sanji…” he shook his head. “I can’t…”

Sanji put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Lie down,” he commanded.

Zoro did as he was told, lying back and lifting his knees to keep the deepness of the penetration. Sanji leaned down, nipping at Zoro’s jaw.

“Do it to me,” he growled, “Put your hand on me. Jerk me off.”

When Zoro’s strong hand wrapped around him, Sanji placed his own on either side of Zoro’s head. He arched, pushing down and pulling up harder and faster than before. Zoro used his legs like Sanji had done earlier, pushing up to meet Sanji’s hips as they came down. The cook cried out, his shout echoing though the wide space. He growled into Zoro’s face and swallowed the panting, broken grunts from the swordsman’s mouth.

When Zoro started to tense beneath him, Sanji glanced down and watched as the swordsman’s back started to arch. Desperately, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s jaw and turned the larger man’s head to face him.

“Don’t you dare, you bastard,” Sanji snarled. “Don’t you dare come before I get mine.”

Zoro’s eyes ignited at the challenge. One hand slid from Sanji’s thigh to his hip and caught the cook in a grip that would definitely leave bruising. He thrust up hard, fucking Sanji with everything he had left. Sanji cried out again, “ _Ah! Yes!_ ” They moved together in perfect sync. Zoro’s thrusts matched Sanji’s and the swordsman jerked the cook’s erection until it pulsed. Tension, confusion, and doubt left Sanji in a rush as he spilled out over Zoro’s scarred chest. His eyes squeezed shut as pleasure clouded his senses. His hand joined the swordsman’s to finished himself off as short spasms still rolled through his body. When he felt Zoro tense again he opened his eyes to watch the man beneath him throw his head back and growl fiercely from between clenched teeth. The sight was powerful, beautiful. One that Sanji would have to remember and keep with him always.

As they came down, Sanji moved to disconnect them, hissing as Zoro slipped from inside him. He lowered his trembling body to lay atop Zoro’s and they breathed quietly, running their hands over each other’s skin.

After a while, Sanji started to feel himself dozing. He was comfortable, content. He closed his eyes and nestled into the hollow right beneath Zoro’s jaw. He breathed in the swordsman’s scent, surprised that it was just as pleasant, if not more so, than a woman’s.

He felt Zoro’s lips in his hair and he froze.

“Felt good…” Zoro whispered.

It had. It had felt amazing. Sanji wasn’t sure what to say yet, so he settled for a quiet agreement.

“Yeah… it did.”

Feeling sleep overtaking him, Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro and stopped trying to think. There would be plenty of time for thinking tomorrow.

END


End file.
